


So I sat alone and waited out the night

by theaeblackthorn



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Baking, First Time, Fluffy Moments, Hopeful Ending, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Misunderstandings, Movie Reference, Prostitution, The Avengers - Freeform, Underage Sex, hooker!Derek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-14
Updated: 2013-12-14
Packaged: 2018-01-04 14:56:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1082356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theaeblackthorn/pseuds/theaeblackthorn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Stiles thought about prostitutes he thought about women, with too much makeup and too few clothes, being hauled into the station. Then he met Derek Hale.</p>
            </blockquote>





	So I sat alone and waited out the night

**Author's Note:**

> You can skip to the end for more detailed warnings and notes about the fic, but it may have spoilers, the tags on it are your best general guide to what this fic is going to contain, but if you have any queries or specific issues I'd skip to the end to check the warnings. If I've not warned for something and you feel I should, please let me know.
> 
> Massive thank you to [tuesdaymidnight](http://archiveofourown.org/users/tuesdaymidnight/pseuds/tuesdaymidnight) for beta'ing at incredible speed, and as always [slumber](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Slumber/pseuds/Slumber) for getting it into that initial state and [aristh_rayray](http://archiveofourown.org/users/aristh_rayray/pseuds/aristh_rayray) for telling me the outline made sense and listening to me endlessly throughout this. And for everyone on twitter, and elsewhere. 
> 
>  
> 
> Art is brought to you by evian_fork! [Art masterpost](http://evian-fork.livejournal.com/147365.html).
> 
> Written for teenwolf-bb. 
> 
> **Warnings/notes (contains spoilers):**  
>  Derek is a prostitute so there are various mentions of him fucking people, none in much detail. 
> 
> Stiles and Derek have sex, there are some consent issues about that. One, it's underage. Two, the motivation behind Derek's actions aren't exactly clear, and while he insists he was 'doing his job', Stiles still insists that it was more than that. When confronted Derek doesn't deny that maybe it wasn't 'just' doing his job. 
> 
> Multiple references to underage prostitution. Not Derek, but Isaac and unnamed OCs. Nothing at all in ANY detail. 
> 
> Stiles is sometimes a bit of a dick, but that's his character.

The alley reeks, but as soon as he opens the backdoor to get out the smells that hit his nose are deliciously amazing. His stomach gurgles, reminding him that he hasn't had breakfast yet because _four a.m._ is way too early for breakfast.

Trying not to crash his car on the drive to the bakery isn't the hardest part of the morning; instead, it's trying to find somewhere non-shady to park the Jeep. Stiles ends up in the alley behind, next to the trash cans. As he jumps out of his Jeep, struggling to keep his eyes open, he eyes the group of guys standing at the other end of the alley despite the crappy hour of the morning. They're watching the street, not his car, but he still glares at their backs, as if daring them to come near his baby. 

"Hi, you must be Stiles." The door of the bakery opens, the young woman awkwardly standing back from it, trying to avoid her massive baby bump.

That is one ridiculously pregnant lady. Green eyes meet his as he pans up to face her. "Uh, yes, hi!" 

She holds out a hand covered in flour. "I'm Natalie, Jimmy said you'd be here today. By the fact you're here, I'll take it you found the place okay."

Natalie invites him in and makes him wash up. 

"Seeing as it's your first day, I thought I'd start you off easy. Most of the making is done the day before, Jimmy will be covering once you head to school, so all we really need you to do is accept deliveries, get the ovens heated up, and the morning goods baked. There'll be more to do on weekends, though. But that's mostly just shop work."

Stiles gets how lucky he is that when the car needed repairs, his dad had managed to find him a job that fit so neatly around school that wasn't McDonalds. "Right, that sounds easy enough. What's first?"

Okay, so the early mornings suck, but as he chews on a pecan pastry from yesterday, he thinks that there are way, way worse jobs out there. He's just approaching the Jeep when there's a noise from the dumpster that makes him choke.

As he splutters and tries not to die on a pastry (oh the indignity-- not the worse way to go), a scruffy, mean-looking guy walks out from behind the dumpster, still doing up his fly. Stiles is going to die because someone needed to pee. Great. 

After a few endless seconds of choking, he spits out the offending bit of pastry and wipes at his streaming eyes. When he looks up, the guy isn't offering to help or anything, just staring at him with a frown on his face. 

"Thanks for the help," Stiles says sarcastically. At that, the guy glares and stalks off toward the group of people that are still there from earlier. 

Stiles flips him off before turning to get into his car. What a dickwad.

Waking up at the asscrack of dawn (before dawn, even), leaves Stiles pretty wiped when the evenings come along. Mostly he manages to convince himself to go to sleep, but his insomnia still hits some nights, and he finds his alarm beeping when he's been asleep for next to no time. He hits snooze a few times too many and fuck, fuck, fuck.

Natalie's been gone a week into her maternity leave, so it's just him opening up and getting the morning baking started. He's seen some of their customers when their pastries aren't ready exactly on time--they're vicious. He makes it to the bakery just in time, but nearly hits someone as he slams his car into first to park it. 

He stumbles out to apologize to the person, only to be met with the guy from the choking incident. Great. 

"Oh, it's you." There's not enough coffee in the world to make him more awake, probably because the ADHD means caffeine doesn't have that much of an effect on him. 

The guy glares again. Maybe there's something wrong with him, like, mentally. 

"Sorry, I'd love to stay and make angry faces at you, but I'm late." Stiles slams the Jeep door shut, and makes a show of locking it. Not like there's anything worth stealing in it anyway. 

He's only ten minutes late, but it's enough to get grumpy faces from the first few customers when their danishes and iced buns aren't ready on time. 

Natalie comes in with Jimmy to take over from Stiles, and man, he can't believe how big she's got. She's so tiny, as small as Lydia, how is she not like...toppling over? "Can I touch it?" He asks, gesturing to her bump. "Or is that weird? Do you not want everyone feeling you up? Maybe I shouldn't have--" 

She laughs. "It's okay, Stiles. Go on." She drags his hand over and wow, yeah, there's something moving in there. 

"Man, it's like _Alien_ ," he says before he can stop himself. 

Natalie rolls her eyes. "Thanks, Stiles." 

Jimmy, her husband, is with her. Stiles likes them; they're friendly but not the condescending sort of friendly. They don't really treat him like a kid. Probably because they're closer to his age than his dad's. The only downside is that Jimmy looks a lot like Scott's dad, even if Stiles knows they're not related at all, it's just one of those things. 

"How's the first week alone been?" Jimmy asks, arm wrapped around Natalie's shoulders. Stiles gets a brief flash of how-do-they-even because Jimmy's at least a foot taller than Natalie. 

"Uh good, the raspberries haven't arrived yet, but I know it was an all day delivery slot, and we've sold out of breakfast muffins twice this morning already, and it's happened a couple of times this week." 

Jimmy nods and makes a note on the clipboard by the register, before starting to go about getting the shop ready. "We'll have another batch for you tomorrow, no worries. Anything else?" 

Stiles hesitates. He thinks about the guy that he keeps running into behind the shop, the shifty looking one in the leather jacket, with the stubble and the stupidly tight jeans. Not that he'd been looking. "There's a guy hanging around out back." 

Jimmy turns to Natalie. "Did you see him, honey?"

Natalie nods. "Dark hair, lots of stubble, looks like he's right out of a Shangri-Las’ song?" 

"Yeah, that's the guy. He kinda looks like he might be casing the place." Stiles undoes his apron and folds it up. 

"He's the one I was telling you about, hon. Don't worry about him, Stiles. He's harmless."

"But why's he hanging around? That's suspicious behavior We should totally call the police." 

"Oh, no, Stiles that's...they're just prostitutes."

"Oh." Stiles thinks about him coming out from behind the dumpster. " _Oh_. We should call the police and make them--"

"They're not hurting us, or the business. They even come in and buy things sometimes. Let them be." 

Stiles looking from Natalie to Jimmy. "But--"

Jimmy ties on his apron, slipping his wedding band onto the strings to keep it safe. 

"When we first opened the shop we used to have a lot of trouble in the neighborhood--it's not exactly Beacon Hills." 

For all that Beacon Hills is the center of Beacon County and, in theory, has crime, he knows there are way more problems in Monroe, where the amount of derelict buildings is just insane. Recessions, man. 

"Since the hookers moved onto the corner, we've had a lot less trouble. They're not bad people; everyone's got to earn a living. Now come on, you're going to be late for school." 

Stiles lets himself be hustled out of the door with a few slightly burnt bagels. The sun's just rising as gets to his Jeep. He stops and turns, watching the guys on the corner. Now he knows what they're doing there, it makes a completely different picture. 

There's one kid standing there who doesn't look any older than him, curly hair and way too underfed; those cheek bones are sticking out way too much and how the hell is that thin jacket supposed to keep him warm in this weather? Next to the kid is the guy Stiles keeps bumping into. 

As Stiles watches he sees a car pull up, window rolled down, and the guy walks up to it like he's got all the time in the world. Stiles can't hear what they're saying from here, but a couple seconds later the guy is walking around to the passenger side. 

Just before he gets in, he looks straight up over the car and down the alley, straight at Stiles. The guy cocks an eyebrow before slipping into the car. 

Stiles fumbles his keys and almost drops the bagels trying to get into his jeep.

Sometimes Stiles forgets the real world is out there, that the shit he sees on TV isn't just on TV. He sees shit in his dad's cases, in the files he brings home that Stiles can't resist looking at, but it's not the same as seeing a kid the same age as him selling himself on the street. 

He can't imagine how fucking horrible it would be, to let someone use you. He had a hard enough time talking about his wages with Jimmy, he can't imagine haggling with someone over the price for sucking their dick.

Some days it's just too freaking early, like, okay, money, which is good, and the Jeep, which is better, but some days waking up makes him feel sick because _it's dark outside_. And it's summer.

When he gets to work, the guy's standing in the alley again, but only a doorway down from the entrance to the bakery. Stiles glares at him; the guy glares back, which kinda leaves Stiles stuck. He can't look away because then the guy totally wins, but he can't do anything more than glare back. It's too early for this shit. He glares harder (that's possible, he can totally glare harder, shut up). 

The sun is quite literally rising as he stands there, glaring at a hooker for reasons. Shit, he's going to be late and he's standing _right there_ ; his eyes flit to the door and then back to the guy. Who smirks at him. 

"Don't want to be late." The guy's voice is taunting and dammit, Stiles has lost. It's too early for this shit. 

He storms into the bakery and slams the door behind him. Stupid hookers who don't have anything better to do with their stupid mornings than go around annoying people. 

The first batch of croissants he burns, because he's still stewing over the glare-off, and when he goes to take out the trash he sees the guy still loitering about the alley. The trash bag's dripping, so he throws it into the dumpster before turning to the guy. Who's watching him. 

"What? Haven't you got anything better to do with your day than irritate me?" 

The guy shrugs. "It's a free country, I can do what I want." 

"Well this is my job, so can you quit harassing me, _please_." Sarcasm is what Stiles does best. 

"This is my place of work too, and I was here first." 

Stiles wants to throw something at him to get that smug look off his face. "Well, you--at least my job is respectable!" 

The guy shrugs again. "Pretty sure mine pays better." 

Stiles can't stop his brain thinking about what this guy does to earn more than him. His eyes flick to the little bit of chest hair that's visible over the guy's ridiculously low-cut v-neck tee, down to the tight jeans. He's checked the guy out before he can even stop himself. 

When he looks back up at the guy's face, he's met with a knowing grin. "Like what you see?" 

Stiles sputters, cheeks burning. "I--you--urgh!" Stiles storms back into the bakery for the second time to the sound of mocking laughter.

Fuck this shift, Stiles is so ready for school. He never thought he'd be looking forward to school, but man, at least maybe he can sleep there. He pushes open the door but smacks right into a solid shape, and goes flying backwards.

"What the fuck?!" 

The door slowly swings open and he sees the hooker getting up and walking away. 

"Dude! What the hell man! Aren't you even going to give me a hand up?" Stiles bitches as he struggles to his feet. 

The guy turns around; he's already made it to the dumpster. "You look like you're doing fine by yourself." 

He turns around and carries on walking before Stiles can say anything. It doesn't stop him from shouting after him. "Way to be an asshole, asshole!" 

Not his most witty, he'll admit. What he's not expecting is for the guy to turn back, hands buried in his pockets, stretching the worn denim to the point it looks like it might break. "My name's Derek."

Stiles's eyes narrow. "Way to be an asshole, Derek!" 

He swears he can hear that stupid laugh as Derek wanders down the alley. Stupid fucking Derek. What kind of a name is 'Derek' anyway? Who ever heard of a prostitute called 'Derek'?!

Mornings are getting colder as the chill of autumn settles in, and Derek the Antagonistic Hooker is still being a smug dick every time Stiles runs into him (which is way, way too regularly--he's seeing him as much as he sees Scott). His car nearly skids on the early morning frost on the way in, so Stiles has to drive extra slow just to be safe. Seriously, how is he always late for his early morning job--oh, that's probably why.

There's someone sitting on the step when he gets there, and Stiles is all ready to tell Derek to beat it when he realizes it's not Derek. 

He stops in front of the guy, and runs a hand over the back of his head. "Uh, _excuse me_."

Stiles never has to try to be obnoxious; it just comes naturally. There's no response from the guy on the doorstep. His face is covered by the collar of his jacket, so Stiles can't get a good look at him. Please don't let this be the first time he finds a corpse, he pleads; that'll ruin the bakery for him. 

"You're in my way." Stiles reaches out a hand to wake the kid up, and as his hand connects, the guy startles awake, limbs flailing and knocking straight into Stiles' nose. 

Stiles shouts and flails, pain shooting through his face as a run of warmth starts dripping down into his mouth, and shit that coppery taste, the motherfucker probably broke his nose! 

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?!" Stiles shouts, trying to stem the flow of blood from his nose. "You broke my nose!" 

"Isaac!" There's a shout from behind him, and suddenly Derek's there, rushing in a blur to get between Stiles and the kid--Isaac?

"He broke my nose!" Stiles tries to say, but it comes out muffled and way too nasally. Fuck. He's going to have to call Natalie or Jim to come in and cover the shift. There’s no way he can bake like this. 

Derek's standing over Isaac, as he tries to curl himself into a ball. "What did you do to him?" Derek demands. 

Is this guy for real? "What did I do to him?! I'm the one with the broken nose!" 

"Just because of what we do doesn't mean you get to beat on us." Derek's giving Isaac space, Stiles can see now, but clearly checking him over for injury from a distance. 

Stiles's hands are sticky with blood, and man, his nose fucking _hurts_ , no way he can drive himself to hospital like this. Shit, does a broken nose even warrant a visit to hospital? Maybe he can just go see Scott's mom when she's off shift. 

"I didn't do anything to him! He was sleeping in the--you know what, I seriously don't have time for this shit, I've got to call someone to come cover for me. Can you _please_ move out of the way." 

"Derek, shit, I didn't--" Isaac's staring up at him, confusion on his face. "What happened?" 

"You fell asleep on my doorstep and when I tried to wake you up, you broke my freaking nose. That's what happened. Now, _move_." 

Isaac steps out of the way, and Stiles starts trying to open the door. He fumbles the keys three times before swearing out loud. "Stupid fucking door!"

The t-shirt isn't stopping the flow of blood either, and fuck, this was one of his favorites. Warm hands are taking the keys out of his hand. 

"Which one is it?" Derek asks, gesturing at them. 

"The big silver one, not that one, yeah, that one." 

Derek opens the door and Stiles moves over to the sink, to try and clear the blood off his hands so he can use his phone, stupid fucking touchscreen. 

Fucking great, now his hands are too wet to use it, and the sink looks like a kill room. It takes him a minute to realize Derek is still there, waiting and watching. 

He holds his phone out. "Make yourself useful, dial 'Jimmy' for me." 

Derek hands the ringing phone back, and after a couple of rings Jimmy answers. " _What's wrong, Stiles_?"

"Urgh, nothing major, but you're going to need to come in and cover this morning. There's been an accident and I've broken my nose." 

" _Accident? Are you okay? What the hell, Stiles? You didn't fall over again, did you?_ " 

Sometimes Stiles hates when people remember the clumsy kid he was. "No, nothing like that, just startled someone I shouldn't have." 

He glares at Derek, who glares back. 

"I can heat up the ovens, but you probably don't want the customers seeing me like this, and it fucking hurts, man." 

" _No worries, I'll be there in thirty. Just hold the fort._ "

Stiles hangs up and finds himself staring at Derek. 

It's Derek who breaks the silence. "He didn't--Isaac didn't do it intentionally." 

Stiles snorts, or tries to, all he gets is a searing pain through his head. "Fuck. I got that. Doesn't stop it hurting." 

Derek hesitates. "No one would believe you if you were going to press charges." 

Stiles frowns, grabbing some tissues and wetting them, trying to wash the blood off his face. "What kind of dick do you think I am?" Because he might be a bit of a dick, but he's not an asshole. 

"You'd be surprised what kind of people there are in the world." Derek drops down onto one of the spare stools. "You're really not going to make a fuss about it?"

Stiles finishes wiping his face off and drops the bloody tissues in the bin. "Wouldn't stand up anyway." 

"School kid with a legit job, or a dropout runaway hooker. You'd be surprised who the cops would believe." It's the first time he hasn’t heard Derek sound anything less than confident, less than what he's beginning to think might just be hopped up bravado. 

He thinks about his dad, and he knows it's not true. "You can't treat all police officers the same." 

"Why not? That's how they treat us. We're just scum to them. Something to be hidden away and gotten rid of, unless they've got an itch to scratch." Derek leers the last few words, leaning forward a little. 

"Cut it out, my dad's a cop!" 

"Yeah, well maybe he's one of the good ones." Derek sags back in his seat. "There's got to be some out there, or nothing would get done."

"He is." Stiles nods emphatically, which kicks off the bleeding again. 

Stiles tries to glare at him for a minute, but it hurts his nose. 

"You should make yourself useful," Stiles declares, still trying to staunch the flow of blood. 

Derek hands him a wad of tissues. 

"Thanks," he replies, reluctantly. 

"What can I do to help?" 

He winces as he pinches his nose, holding the tissues tight against it. "First, you're going to need to wash up. There's another sink over there, you should probably use that one."

By the time Jimmy gets there they're not so far behind with the morning rush, just a batch of croissants. 

"Hey Stiles," Jimmy greets him, whistling as he catches sight of all the blood. 

"Don't worry, I stayed back in the cooking area. Derek handled it for me." Stiles nods his head in Derek's direction, where he's standing with an apron over his worn jeans and beat-up undershirt. 

"Huh, nice to meet you Derek." Jimmy holds out his hand. Derek stares at it for a moment, before slowly clasping his in a handshake. It takes Stiles a moment to realize that, oh, it's probably not something that happens to Derek very often, people wanting to shake his hand. "How do you know Stiles here?" 

Stiles can feel his cheeks heating up, oh crap, how _does_ he end up with a hooker in Jimmy's kitchen? "Uh..." His mind scrabbles around for an explanation. 

"Stiles accidentally startled one of my friends trying to wake him up, so I thought I'd lend a hand." 

Jimmy nods. "That'd be the nose? Shit, Stiles. Your dad's going to flip out when he sees it." 

Stiles squints at himself in the tiny mirror above the employee sink. "Nah, he's had worse from me over the years, but I better get going."

"You're safe to drive like this?" 

"Yeah, it just hurts like a bitch. Sorry about having to call you in. I know Natalie's almost ready to drop." 

Jimmy smiles at the mention of Natalie. "My wife, Stiles is just covering for her while she has our baby," he explains to Derek's confused look. 

"Your first?" Derek asks, voice gruff again. 

"Yeah, due any day now. And no worries, Stiles, it was the right thing to do." Jimmy's putting on his apron, and Stiles takes it as his cue to leave. 

"See you tomorrow." He pulls out his keys and heads to the Jeep, leaving Jimmy and Derek standing in the bakery. Maybe he'll stop at CVS on the way home and grab some painkillers, because _holy fuck_ his nose hurts.

"Dude, dude!" Scott's shout comes from down the school hallway.

Stiles turns around to Scott skidding to a halt next to him. 

"Oh man, mom was right that's _impressive_!" There's a tiny bit of awe in Scott's voice. 

He raises a hand to his nose, stopping himself at the last moment. "Yeah, it hurts like a bitch." 

Scott slings an arm around him pulling him close. "Man, you look so badass." 

He snorts. "You wouldn't say that if you saw me trying to shower this morning without getting the bandage wet." 

The rumble of Scott's laughter makes his arm shake. "I've got spare from mom in my bag. What happened? She wouldn't say." 

"Urgh, don't even. I've learned a very important lesson: let sleeping hookers lie. Or at least if you're going to wake them, do it from a distance. Maybe with a stick, or a rock, or something."

"Hookers? Like prostitutes? What were you doing with prostitutes?" 

They reach the history classroom and separate, dropping down into desks adjacent to each other. "The alley behind the bakery is full of them, and there's one that's like the bitchiest guy ever."

Scott's brow furrows. "Dude-prostitutes?" 

"Yeah, one guy's got like, this stupid leather jacket, and this stupid stubble, and--" 

"So they're like, old and stuff?" 

Stiles frowns, thinking about Derek and Isaac. "I don't know, maybe early 20s? And Isaac's maybe--" Curls and face that's far too gaunt. "Shit, Isaac might be about our age?"

Scott's quiet for a minute, and Stiles almost wishes he hadn't said anything. He carries on getting his books out, watching as the rest of the class settles. 

Nearly everyone's in their seat by the time Stiles recognizes that look on Scott’s face, the 'there's something wrong in the world and I want to fix it’ face. "No, Scott."

"Dude, there used to be a kid in our class, remember? Isaac...shit, what was his name?" 

Stiles flips through his textbook not thinking about what Scott's saying, not thinking about the kid curled up in the doorway. 

"C'mon Stiles, you never forget something like this. He used to sit behind Lydia, curly hair, kinda quiet, I think he had an older brother...?"

The thing is, Stiles does know the kid now that Scott's said it. Isaac Lahey--he used to have an older brother, Camden, who was a few years ahead of them. Stiles has seen Scott with injured puppies, and Melissa shouting that they can't afford to look after another one. Hell, Scott only took the job at the vet so he could help Deaton look after all the sick and dying animals. 

"Stiles..." Scott pleads.

"Lahey. Isaac Lahey. He never made the move over to high school with us. I assumed he'd just transferred schools, or, yeah. I didn't think he was--" Living on the streets, being paid to fuck people. 

"We gotta do something; no one deserves that." 

Stiles doesn't say anything, because, it's not his business, right? If Isaac doesn't want to live on the street, he should do something about it. It's not Stiles' responsibility, or Scott's...

"Stiles..." Scott pleads. 

Yeah, Scott's got nothing on that. He huffs. "Fine, you can come to work with me tomorrow, but that's it, I'm not getting any more involved."

"You're the best." Scott sounds so fucking sincere. 

"Wait ‘til it's 4 a.m. and you're trying to brush your teeth and failing, then you say that."

The teacher comes in and calls for quiet, and that's the end of the conversation for now. But it doesn't stop Stiles thinking, because that's something he can never stop himself doing. Isaac can't be much older than them--if anything the kid was the tiniest bit younger. 

Stiles thinks about his room, his dad; he thinks about Lydia Martin and the flowers and roses he hopes will be part of his first time. He can't imagine sleeping in that cold, stinking alley way, having _Derek_ for a friend, having no one to even care that he's fucking strangers for a living. Fuck that for a life. Scott's right, no one deserves a life like that, and now it looks like he's caught up in another one of Scott's 'save the injured puppy' adventures. 

Fuck his life, why couldn't they be doing something cool, like looking for a dead body in the woods.

He picks Scott up at 4:15 the next morning, and even though it's fucking freezing out there, Scott's fucking chipper.

"Okay, so, do you think he'll be there today?" Scott's messing with the electric heater in the footwell, trying to crank some more heat out of it. Good luck. 

"I don't know, Derek's normally around, but I only see Isaac every now and then." 

"It's pretty cold out here. You sure they won't have headed home already?" 

Stiles keeps his eyes on the road, but wants to stare at Scott. "I'm pretty sure they don't have homes."

"I meant wherever they're sleeping, like, saying 'alley' sounded really...classist?"

"Bro, have you been on Tumblr again. We talked about this." 

"...Maybe." 

Stiles snorts. At least Scott isn't spending time on Reddit, it'd eat him alive. 

The rest of the ride is mostly silent. He parks in his usual space next to the dumpster, just as the sky is beginning to lighten. Scott falls out of the Jeep like normal--his coordination's worse than Stiles'. 

He scans the alley and spots the group of guys at the far end. "Is that them?"

Stiles nods. "Yeah, see the one with the leather jacket and the dark hair, stupidly tight jeans, and--" 

"Yeah, I see the one. That's not Isaac." 

"No, that's Derek. He might be in charge, maybe? I don't even know if prostitutes have a leader."

"They have a pimp? That's like, a hooker-leader, right? So, Derek's their pimp?"

They start walking towards the bakery. "I don't think so? I mean, when he spoke it sounded like he was referring to them all as hookers, himself included? And, I've seen him come out from behind the dumpster with guys a couple of times, and get in cars with--"

"Okay, so where's Isaac?" Scott's assessing each of the guys. Stiles joins him. 

They reach the door and Stiles fishes around in his pocket for his keys. "I can't see him there. Maybe Derek will know. He's kind of a dick though, you've been warned." 

"Thanks, Stiles. I'll knock when I’m done?" 

"Yeah, and good luck. I guess?"

"Yeah." Scott sticks his hands in his pockets and wanders toward the group of guys.

The knock comes halfway through Stiles taking out the bread rolls from the oven, and he has to make Scott wait for a few minutes.

When he opens the door, Scott rushes in heading straight towards the ovens. "Oh my god, it's freezing out there." 

Closing the door, he turns to watch Scott hold his hands too near the oven and nearly burn them. 

"It smells _amazing_ in here, freshly baked bread is the most amazing smell in the world." 

"Did you know realtors use baking-cookies-scented candles to make homes sell? Something about it makes people want to make a home there." 

"I can believe that."

Stiles wipes his hands on a towel and jumps up onto the counter. "How did it go?

"Derek is kind of a dick."

"Duh, 'told you so' has never quite been so literal. Did you find Isaac?" 

Scott shakes his head. "No luck, I hung around a bit to see if maybe he was just...out with someone. But no luck. Two guys tried to proposition me, though." 

"Really? They wanted a bit of Scotty, eh?" Stiles laughs, imagining Scott politely explaining to the kerb-crawlers, 'no'. 

"It's not funny, dude. They're really skeezy, and then Derek got in the car with one of them, so I thought I'd come back here. I'll go out and check in a bit, but I think the guys are wrapping up for the night." 

"Oh, they're 'the guys' now?" Scott will literally befriend _anyone_.

"It feels kinda rude to call them 'the hookers' now I've met them?"

"But they _are_ hookers?" 

Scott shrugs. "I don't know, man, it feels kind of disrespectful." He pauses. "The world is pretty fucked up." 

Stiles nods, because yeah, he gets that. 

"Some of them are way younger than us, and kind of dicks, but imagine having no one like your dad, or my mom to care for you. That's not... It's really shitty."

"You can't save everyone, Scott." 

Scott sighs. "I know, man. I just--imagine if my dad had been my dad, and I hadn't had my mom around. I could have ended up somewhere like Isaac." Stiles remembers the bruises when Isaac had been changing for swim class. He remembers seeing them start to show up on Scott, too. 

Hopping off the counter, Stiles walks towards Scott. "You never would have ended up like that." 

"You don't know that. No one does." 

"I do, because you had me. I would have never let that happen to you, you're my best friend."

Scott smiles that stupid puppy-dog smile and yeah, they're bros, they're _brothers_ , no matter what blood says. 

The timer on the croissants starts beeping, ruining the moment. Scott tries to eat one hot off the tray and totally burns his mouth. Stiles laughs at him until he cries. Like he said, they're bros.

Scott tries a couple of days without any luck and makes Stiles promise to call him next time he sees Isaac hanging about.

It's the first ice of the winter when Stiles finds Derek waiting for him outside the bakery one morning. He's already late because he had to drive extra-slow, and he totally doesn't have time for this. 

"Can you tell your friend to stop interfering in shit that doesn't concern him?" Derek says, angrily. 

Stiles stops and stares. "Good morning to you too, asshole." 

"Derek. Not 'asshole'. I thought we had this conversation." 

"Yeah we did, but you're totally being an asshole this morning. Did you get up on the wrong side of the bed?" 

Derek's glaring at him like he wishes Stiles' head would explode. "I haven't been to sleep yet." 

Stiles pauses, eyes flicking over Derek, like he does every time Derek reminds him of what he does. "Oh, I forgot." 

"I don't get that luxury."

There's an awkward silence, and Stiles doesn't know where to look or what to say. He fiddles with the keys in his hand. 

Derek licks his red lips and it makes Stiles' eyes fly to them, makes him lick his own chapped lips, subconsciously mirroring him. "Tell your friend to back off." 

Stiles blinks and finally manages to look away from Derek's lips. "What, Scott?" 

Derek rolls his eyes. "No, your other friend that keeps hanging around and asking questions." 

"Dude, he's just trying to help." 

"Well, he's not, so can you please get him to stop." 

He doesn't even really give a shit about Isaac, but now that Derek is trying to stop Scott doing something, it makes him care about it. "Isaac shouldn't be on the streets, Derek. You might be old enough to decide this is what you want to do with your life, but he's just a kid." 

Derek's nostrils flare and it's obviously an argument he's expecting. "He's better out here on the streets that in the system. At least out here he's got freedom."

"Yeah?" Stiles realizes he's shouting when the hookers at the end of the street have turned to watch them. He lowers his voice to an angry whisper. "Yeah? The kind of freedom that involves sleeping in doorways and letting strangers fuck him for money?" 

Derek's all up in his space now, and Stiles can't help but be distracted by how close he is to him, Derek backs him up until he hits the bakery door. 

"At least out here he gets to pick who abuses him. At least he gets something out of it." 

Looking Derek in the eye makes him go a little cross-eyed at this distance. "The system's there to look after kids like Isaac. Scott's even offering him a place to stay. My dad--" 

Derek laughs, hollow and brittle. "Your dad? The sheriff? He's only one man, Stiles. He can't take care of everyone; sometimes people have to take care of themselves." 

"Yeah, dickbag, sometimes people have to let their friends take care of them too." Derek's breath is warm on his face, and the door's hard on his back. If Stiles doesn't think about how close Derek is, how having Derek hold him up against the door feels, then he won't have to acknowledge that something about this is turning him on. 

Nostrils flaring, Derek's eyes flick down to Stiles' crotch, like he can _smell_ Stiles' arousal, which is ridiculous, because no one can do that shit. 

Derek grins, and it makes something twist inside him. "Yeah, think we're 'friends', Stiles?" He slips a leg between Stiles' and presses up. Now Derek knows he made him hard. 

Stiles shoves Derek off of him. "I'm sixteen, shit like that happens. And no, dickbag, I don't think we're 'friends', and that's not how you make them." He straightens his shirt and tries to ignore the tightness of his jeans. 

When he looks up, Derek is standing there blinking at him like he's confused. It's enough to throw him for a moment. 

"No, I won't tell Scott to back off, because if it's your choice, it sucks, but that's _your choice_. You're an adult and you get to make that choice. Isaac isn't. He's still a kid, just like I am, and someone should be looking after him." 

That snaps Derek out of whatever trance he was in, but he's quiet when he replies, almost sincere, nothing like the anger from before. "I _am_ looking out for him. Why can't you see that?"

Stiles snorts. "Yeah? Well, you're not doing a very good job of it."

Derek glares again, but there's not so much heat in it. "He's still alive, isn't he?" 

"What do you want, an award? He's an underage prostitute."

"So was I, and I grew up fine." 

Stiles hadn't thought about how long Derek had been doing this. "I'm not sure I'd call this 'fine', Derek. What do you even want? You're making me late for work." 

"I want Scott to leave him alone. He's my responsibility. I'm looking after him." 

Stiles lets out a frustrated noise. This is literally like talking to a brick wall; they're going around in circles. "Derek, if you think that's looking after someone, you seriously need to look up the definition. Now I've got to go, people get really fucking rude if they don't get their morning pastries." 

He doesn't give Derek the chance to say anything else, heading in and slamming the door shut before Derek can get any words out. The trash will have to wait for Jimmy to do it today--he's not going back out there.

*

He doesn't see Derek for a few weeks, and winter hits hard. Even some of the hookers at the end of the alley start to not show up. Stiles guesses it's too cold for anything but the more hardy ones. He hopes they're missing because they've found somewhere warm to be, not because they've frozen to death somewhere. 

A week or so after that, he gets a late-night text from Scott. _Can you come pick me up?_ There's an address that google maps tells him is only a couple of blocks from the bakery. 

_I'll be there in half an hour_ , he texts back, and pulls on his jacket. Even though they live in California, they're pretty far north, and winter can be _cold_. 

There's nothing at the address except for a row of closed shops. It feels like the beginning of a horror film and if it was anyone but Scott that'd text him he'd be driving away already. He drops a text, _where are you?_

A minute later and Scott's stepping out from behind some dumpsters, a shivering Isaac in tow. Stiles raises a hand to rub at bridge of his nose; it's healed straight but he can still remember the pain of it breaking. 

"Hey man, thanks for the ride." Scott shoves his bike into the back of the jeep, and climbs in after it. He gestures for Isaac to take the front. 

"No worries. Hey, Isaac." At the sight of him Stiles reaches down, slowly, to turn the heater up a few. He looks fucking freezing. 

Isaac nods awkwardly and pulls the door of the Jeep shut so carefully that it doesn't close properly. 

"Yeah, you're gonna need to do that again. With a bit more force." He does and it makes the entire car rattle. 

" _Dude_!" Stiles complains, glaring at him. 

Isaac freezes, eyes going wide and curling in on himself. Stiles feels like a dick. 

"Just...maybe somewhere a bit more in the middle next time." 

Scott's hand lands on Stiles' shoulder and squeezes his thanks. 

"So...where are we heading?" He looks at Scott in his rear-view mirror. 

"Back to mine." 

"We don't--" Isaac starts. 

"Back to mine," Scott repeats, determination coloring his voice. 

Isaac stops shivering somewhere about the limits of Beacon Hills, and by the time they're at Scott's he's asleep in the car. 

"You sure you know what you're doing?" Stiles whispers, as he pulls up outside the Mcall house. 

"Yeah, it's not fair, and your dad said he'd see about getting mom talking to the right people about being set up as a foster carer. Isaac wanted to wait, but it's way too cold out here, man." 

"I thought he lived with Derek." 

"I don't--I think they had an argument a couple of weeks ago about this." Scott sounds sheepish. 

"It's not your fault, man. Isaac's better off with you." 

Stiles's eyes flick down to check on Isaac and he sees he's awake, silently watching him. "Derek tried."

"He should have tried harder." Stiles rolls his eyes, seriously?

"You don't know what you're talking about." 

"I know he didn't try to get you back into the system when he met you."

"I didn't want to go, I didn't--" Isaac's visibly agitated.

"Stiles!" Scott scolds. "Leave him alone, man. It's not the time for it."

Stiles holds up his hands. "Dropping it!" He pops open his door and jumps out the car. "I'll give you a hand with the bike."

Isaac doesn't look at him, even when he's in the house. 

"Bathroom's under the stairs," Scott tells Isaac, who starts moving towards it, leaving Scott and Stiles alone. 

"Thanks again, bro." Scott gives him a quick hug. "I totally owe you one."

"No worries, and be careful? Don't leave him alone. He might rob you or something."

Scott rolls his eyes and Stiles knows he gets that from him. "He's not a thief, Stiles. He's a kid just like us." 

"But he's not 'just like us', is he? A year on the streets is a long time, Scott; you don't know what difference that might have made. Hell, he might have been hooking before he was out there, you don't know. You don't know anything."

"I know, and mom said she'd help, maybe see if we can find him someone to talk to, get him checked out, that sort of stuff. We'll be fine."

Stiles wants to believe him, he really does, because it's Scott, and this not working out would suck for him.

"See you tomorrow?"

"Yeah, see you at school. Let me know if you need a ride." 

"Will do."

He climbs back into the Jeep, kicking up the heater because fuck it's cold. He pities anyone stuck outside on a night like tonight, and unbidden his mind jumps to Derek. 

He never has a coat, just that stupid leather jacket that can't really keep him warm, can it? Maybe he's with a client somewhere warm, or maybe he's on a street corner freezing his balls off. Whatever. Stiles' gut twists thinking about him. Stiles has never known someone like him before, someone that didn't have the security of a warm home when winter came, of friends, of...fuck. 

Derek isn't his friend, he said as much himself; he's just someone he knows. Stiles tries to push him out of his mind. It's almost 1am and he has school in the morning; he needs to get home and to bed. 

Even when he does he feels a little pinch of guilt, his sheets might need a wash, but they're warm and whole. He's a lot luckier than some people.

He has to get up half an hour earlier because there's still snow on the ground, and it's taking double the time to get over to Monroe. The alley's kind of beautiful in his weather, the snow covering all of the trash. It's cold enough that there aren't even the hookers at the end of the alley.

He stares for a moment and thinks about Derek, wonders where he's gone, wonders who he talks to now that Isaac's not around. Maybe he's got other friends, but Stiles doesn't think so. Derek isn't exactly the social type. 

For a moment Stiles thinks someone left a bag of trash in the doorway, until he catches a glimpse of leather. A closer looks shows him, yeah, there's hair and someone curled up into their jacket. A very Derek-shaped someone. He's learned his lesson from Isaac and carefully nudges Derek with the toe of his sneaker, keeping well back. 

It takes a couple of nudges, but Derek's eyes open, a bright electric blue. That's weird, he thought Derek had green-hazel eyes. 

"Stiles?" Derek's squinting up at him, and in the pale light of the alley his lips look almost blue. 

"You cannot be sleeping out here." 

Derek carefully stands up, dislodging the snow that was stuck to him. "You and your fucking alley. It's the warmest doorway in the area."

"I didn't mean that! I just meant you shouldn't be sleeping _outside_ in this weather. There have got to be shelters or something open, somewhere you can stay?" 

Derek tries to get some snow out of the neck of his jacket and Stiles can see the angry-red of his fingers. "Other people need them more than me. I'm pretty hard to kill."

"It's like minus two! We haven’t had a winter storm like this in a couple of years." 

"Don't worry, I wasn't--there's a place I stay that should be sheltered enough. It's just a long walk, and I was tired. There's still a lot of tricks, and not so many people out in this weather. It's good money. "

What do you even say to that? How does Derek manage to talk about it all so normally? Maybe because he's been doing it for so many years. It still feels pretty fucking bleak to Stiles.

"Aren't you going to be late for work?" Derek prompts, gesturing at the bakery with his shoulder. 

Stiles hesitates. He can't leave Derek out here in this. It's way too cold for someone only weather ratty jeans and a thin leather jacket, one that doesn't even have a collar. 

"Do you want to come inside for a while?" Stiles asks, fiddling with his keys. "Maybe when my shift's up I could give you a ride somewhere? Or, you might be able to grab a few somewhere a little warmer."

It's Derek's turn to hesitate. "Won't your boss mind?" 

"I'm pretty sure Jimmy likes you. Besides, he won't be in for hours. There's a beat up old sofa in the back we got a couple weeks ago. Jimmy uses it to sneak naps when we're quiet, now that the baby's born." 

That gets Derek's attention. "She had it okay?" He seems genuinely interested. 

"Yeah, it's a little girl, they called her Michelle, 7 pounds, 2 ounces. Come in, I've got the pics on my phone, and it's too fucking cold to stand out here and show you." 

The bakery's still pretty chilly when he gets in, and Stiles keeps his coat on. Stiles directs Derek to the sofa, and once the lights and ovens are switched on, he sinks down next to Derek. 

It takes a few seconds for him to find the pictures on his phone, and he hands it over to Derek. "There she is a couple of hours after. Apparently she's cute but she just looks really tiny and red to me?" 

Derek stares down at the picture. "She's beautiful." 

Stiles smiles. "That's what my dad said. If you swipe there are some more."

He waits and Derek doesn't do anything but frown. "Swipe?" 

"Dude, have you never used a smartphone before?" Stiles would clap his hand over his mouth, but the words are already out there and there's nothing he can do about it now. 

No, Derek probably hasn’t used a smartphone before. 

"Here," Stiles says, reaching over into Derek's personal space. "You just swipe like this to see more pics, left goes forward, right goes back." 

Derek nods and stares down at the pictures, there are some cute ones Jimmy sent him, of Natalie holding little Michelle, Jimmy holding her, her settled into the crib surrounded by cute little stuffed animals. 

"I got her the wolf," Stiles tells him. For some reason that makes Derek let out a small snort of laughter. 

Derek swipes one too many times and hits on a picture of Scott and Isaac eating lunch together. It'd been a mis-snap--he'd been trying to show them something else and accidentally taken a picture. 

"He looks happy," Derek says wistfully, running a finger over the picture, accidentally zooming in. Derek turns to face him. "Is he?"

Stiles suddenly realizes how close they've gotten, sitting on the sofa. He wants to pull back, because this seems too intimate for someone that isn't...he doesn't know Derek, not really, they're not friends. But he doesn't, because that would be weird. "I think so?" He answers, instead. "Scott's mom got him a counsellor through this youth charity, and he's back at school, but they had to hold him back a year. His dad's dead, turns out he was murdered a couple of months ago, and I got the impression that was kind of a good thing."

There's something in Derek's eyes that makes Stiles go still. Lucky...it'd been really lucky that Isaac's dad wasn't there to try and get custody of him again. Really, suspiciously, well-timed luck. Stiles shivers, and it isn’t because of the cold in the room, because the ovens have already started to make it warm. 

"That's good." Derek nods and hands the phone back to Stiles. "I'm glad it worked out for him." 

Stiles swallows. "Uh, yeah. I don't--" He wants to ask how Derek is, but it doesn't feel like the answer can be anything good. "I should put the rolls in." 

He stands up and shrugs off his jacket. When he turns around he catches Derek starting at his chest; he's blaming the heat in his cheeks from the change in temperature. 

"You like The Avengers?" Derek asks, at Stiles' look. 

It's a pretty vague print, only the symbols for each of the heroes, a casual fan might not get it. "Oh man, totally! I am all up in that, Tony Stark is my man! I was so excited when they cast RDJ, he's so fucking perfect." 

Derek's eyebrows shoot up. "There's an _Avengers_ movie? When does it come out?"

"Dude! It totally came out this year, but _Iron Man_ came out like four years ago!" How the hell can you recognize the shirt and not--oh. 

Derek shrugs. "I'm a little out of date on my pop culture. What other movies are they doing?"

Stiles start rattling off about the different movies they've come out with, and those in the works. Every time he tells Derek about what storyline changes they've made, and what stories they've put into what, he totally keeps up with him. 

"What the hell is happening?" Derek asks in disgust. 

"I know right!" Stiles flops down next to Derek on the sofa, because nothing needs taking out or putting in for at least fifteen minutes. "I couldn't believe they made that call."

They sit in silence for a moment; it's nice just talking shit he likes with someone. Scott's been so busy with Isaac lately, and he gets it, he does it's just...this is nice. 

"I totally didn't take you for a geek." He rolls his head to face Derek, and finds him doing the same. 

"No? Why not?" 'Because I'm a hooker?' goes unsaid. 

"Dude, _no_. Because you have magnificent thighs, and like, perma-stubble, and the leather jacket. You're _cool_. Cool people aren't geeks" 

Derek snorts. "That's not judgmental at all."

"Hey, I'm just going off the expectation that all geeks look as hideous as me." 

"You're not hideous, Stiles. You're just not fully grown yet, you're just kind of awkward right now." 

"Aw, you flatterer," Stiles says, a thread of sarcasm through his words. Derek shouldn't mess with people--it's mean. 

Derek shrugs half-heartedly. "Believe me or not. You'll see when you hit college." 

The oven beeps, and Stiles gets up to grab the buns before they burn. He doesn't know if Derek even needs a response, so he switches subjects. "I'll bring my laptop with me next time I'm around. I've got all the movies so if you're here you can stop and watch them?" 

Derek gets awkward. Fast. "You don't have to."

"It's not like it'd be out of my way, besides, as one fan to another: you have to see Chris Evans as Captain America. It's...really something." Stiles pauses, he knows Derek fucks guys, or he guesses guys fuck Derek, but he's got no idea if Derek's even gay. "Not that--I mean, Scarlett Johanssen is pretty hot too, if you're not into guys. I kinda like both, not that you have to tell me, or that you need to know, I was just--" 

"Stiles, it's okay. I'd really like it if you brought them in. There's a thing I've got to do tomorrow, but is Thursday okay?" 

He nods, running a hand through the short hair on the back of his neck. "Yeah sure, we'll start with _Iron Man_." 

Stiles has to go open the front of the shop and start keeping an eye on customers. Between one rush and the next he finds Derek and his jacket gone, just a small scrawled note that says, 'see you thurs'. 

Huh. Does this mean they're friends now?

He's not sure if he's expecting Derek to show up or not on Thursday, but when he gets to the bakery Derek's already waiting for him, lurking in the doorway.

Stiles shifts the strap of his backpack. "You ready to meet Tony Stark?" 

Derek grins and it makes something inside of Stiles clench. Like this Derek suddenly looks _younger_ , like maybe the kid he was before whatever landed him on the streets. "More excited about meeting Jarvis."

Stiles snorts, moving past Derek to open the door, the doorway is pretty small, and Derek doesn't move out of the way so they end knocking shoulders as he opens up the bakery. When he undoes the bolts down the bottom he brushes against Derek's legs. 

"Sorry," he mutters, straightening up. 

Stiles hands over his backpack to Derek once they're in. 

"You okay to setup? I'm going to get the ovens going; I've got a copy in my Downloads folder, just sort by 'videos'." 

"Sure, does it need to be plugged in?" Derek unzips the bag and pulls out his Macbook. 

"Nah, battery should be good for a movie. I had it charging last night." He goes to check if Jimmy's left him any notes from yesterday, and finds a list of deliveries that he's expecting today. When he has all the ovens heating up, he turns back to a very quiet Derek. 

"Need a hand?" Stiles asks, only half jokingly. 

Derek frowns up at him and whoa, what did he do to earn the glare again? He thought they were past this. 

"Dude, what the hell?"

"Is this supposed to be funny?" Derek's standing up and pulling his coat back on. 

Stiles stops him with a hand on his arm, which Derek death-glares at, making Stiles quickly pull it away and hold his hands up defensively. "Letting go!"

That's the moment Stiles catches a glance at his screen. 

"Oh my god, why are you looking at porn!" Hang on, he recognizes that ass, he remembers looking at it last night, just before he... "Shit that's one of...!" 

Stiles flails for a full minute, a full minute where Derek puts on his coat and stands there, waiting for Stiles to move out of the way. "Move."

"No wait, I didn't--It was an accident! I sent you to--" He lets out a frustrated noise, and leans over to spin the laptop around. "Look!" 

Derek doesn't turn around, so Stiles tugs on his arm, moving his hand quickly when the glare comes. 

"It wasn't intentional, man. I wouldn't do that, it's not cool. Teenage boy here. It's just what I was looking at before I fell asleep last night." As he says that it finally catches up that he's standing here, with someone he finds more than reasonably attractive, and he's showing them porn. "I'm a healthy sixteen year old, what do you expect me to be doing?" 

Derek doesn't look entirely convinced. "You knew I would be looking at this. You let me turn it on."

"Dude, it's like five a.m., I am by no means with it. I didn't even get to sleep until like, two..." His cheeks probably can't go any redder, he knows how blotchy he looks when he blushes. "Which, yeah, you know what I was up doing." 

He pulls back out of Derek's space, letting a bit of distance between them. 

"It really wasn't intentional?" Derek's studying him like he can read the truth there. "Slow down, take a breath and answer."

"I wouldn't. I might be a dick, but I'm not that much of a dick." 

Derek nods once and starts taking off his jacket. He settles down onto the sofa and looks up at Stiles. 

He fidgets for a moment, should he sit down, should he ask first, should he-- 

"Are you going to put the movie on?" Derek jerks his head towards the two guys fucking on the screen, it's paused at a really... unfortunate moment. It is a pretty cock though. 

"Uh, yeah, just let me." Stiles closes out and pulls up the movie. 

The titles roll and Stiles sits awkwardly onto the sofa. He hadn't even realized they'd relaxed around each other until the porn. 

At ten past, Stiles has to get up and put some rolls in, Derek moves to pause it, but Stiles waves him off. "If we pause every time, we''ll never get through it. Don't worry, I've seen it. I know what happens."

Derek stops the movie like three times to bitch about choices they've made, but way, way more to coo over it. As the credits roll, Stiles drops next to Derek and hands him a misshapen danish pastry. 

"So, what did you think?" Stiles crams way too much of the pastry into his mouth. Working here he has to have put on at least six pounds already.

Derek's eating his pastry slowly, and Stiles feels a pang of something like guilt; maybe he should share his pastries more often. There's a smear of maple on Derek's lip, and he stares at it, barely registering that Derek's lips are _moving_. "--are you even listening?" 

Derek licks his lips, tongue darting out to clear the stickiness off of his lips, and Stiles unconsciously finds himself mimicking the action. "Uh, yes?"

There's a smirk on Derek's stupid face that says he knows how Stiles got distracted. They talk about the movie; Derek has opinions, and snark, and Stiles can't believe that this person was hiding beneath the snarky hooker. He moves to the front, manning the register. He's so caught up in describing how they shrunk Chris Evans that he doesn't hear Jimmy come in the back. 

"Stiles?" Jimmy calls. "What's Derek doing back here?" 

"Oh shit! Hey Jimmy!" Stiles hands the woman her change, double checks there's no one about to enter the bakery, and heads to the back. 

Derek's standing there awkwardly, clutching his jacket, staring at Jimmy. 

Fuck. Okay, he'd kinda planned on Derek being gone by the time Jimmy got here. "Heeeeey, we were just--Derek was just watching some movies, keeping me company while I'm at work." 

Jimmy raises an eyebrow. "I'm not paying you to sit around and watch movies, kid." 

Derek edges toward the door.

"I know, I swear, check it." Stiles points over at the front desk. "Look, all my morning jobs done, pastries baked, deliveries accepted, customers served. Derek's just been watching a movie, with my awesome commentary." 

Jimmy narrows his eyes and looks between the two of them. "Stiles..." 

"You can have a look. I promise that's all it was. Hey, ask Derek!" 

Derek freezes, hand on the door. 

"Coward!" Stiles calls with no real heat. "C'mon man, Jimmy's not _angry_."

"Oh, I'm not?" For a second Stiles thinks he might have misjudged him, that Jimmy might actually be pissed off. But then Jimmy sighs and rubs a hand over his face. "Okay fine, you got me. But Stiles...I know you're old enough, but your dad didn't let you work with me so you can spend your mornings with..." Jimmy trails off awkwardly and looks at Derek. The word 'hooker' goes unsaid. 

"Dude! Dude! It's totally not--" How the hell would someone think that him and Derek--that they'd--that Stiles would even have the money-- "Derek hasn’t seen _any_ of the Marvel movies that have come out! It's a travesty for any fan not to have seen them! I'm just helping a bro out! Besides, it's really fucking cold out there." 

Finally, fucking finally, Derek talks, but Stiles would've been a fool to think he was going to back him up. "Don't worry, sir. I won't come in again." 

Stiles makes a pained noise. "Derek!" He swings around to look at Jimmy. "Jimmy! Do you know how long it took me to get him to come in here?! He's not--"

"He's right, Stiles. You shouldn't be hanging around with me." Derek's hunched in on himself and Stiles hates it. 

"I can hang out with whoever I want to, and I want to hang out with you!" Stiles turns his glare on Jimmy, because seriously, why the hell did this have to be a big deal? No one bitches about Scott hanging out with Isaac, why can't he hang out with Derek? 

"Jesus, Stiles! Fine, fine...I wouldn't be a responsible adult if I didn't check. Now come on, there's customers waiting to be served, and you've got to get to school." Jimmy grabs his apron, but pauses, looking over at Derek. "Derek?"

"Yeah?" Derek's still not let go of the door handle. 

"You're welcome in here with Stiles, just, don't do anything that means I have to talk to his dad. Understood?" 

Derek nods, and slips out before Stiles can say anything else to him. 

Jimmy turns to Stiles. "Christ, how does your dad even manage you?"

Stiles shrugs. "With many years of practice?" 

He gets a dishcloth in the face for that. "Get to school, kid, before you do anything else."

The Jeep's parked by the dumpster like normal. He scans the alley a few times before he gets in, but there's no sign of Derek. He'd meant to offer him a ride to wherever he was staying. Oh well, maybe next time.

The next time they watch _The Incredible Hulk_ , and then slowly make their way through the Marvel movies. After _Iron Man 2_ , Derek ends up sitting on a stool behind the counter afterwards, talking over the film.

"No way, there's no way that Justin Hammer could have been young!" Stiles laughs at the earnest expression on Derek's face as he tries to convince him. 

"Can I get two pain aux raisins, a pack of six soft rolls, and a sausage roll?" Stiles turns to face a guy in a business suit, waiting impatiently. Shit, okay, Stiles should have heard him come in. 

"Sure, no problem." He starts bagging up the pastries. "In separate bags, or all together?"

It's weird, the guy's staring at Derek, and sometimes about it irks Stiles. "Separate."

He lines the bags up as quickly as he can, and gets an odd feeling of relief when the guy leaves. He turns back to Derek, who has fallen silent, a strange break from the smiles and laughs he's had from him all morning. 

"Was it me or was there something really off about that guy?" He hops up onto the stool next to Derek, tapping his fingers idly against his jeans.

Derek shrugs. 

"Dude, did you not see it? And he kept staring at you. You must have noticed." 

"I guess."

"Seriously, he spent like most of the time staring right at you, and frowning, there was frowning, there's no way you could have missed it."

There's a pained expression on Derek's face. "Stiles...he's one of my customers."

One of his... _Oh_. "Oh."

"Yeah."

They don't really talk about what Derek does. Sometimes Stiles will see bruises around Derek's lips, or on his wrists. He tries not to think about the bruises that he isn't able to see. 

Two old ladies come in for some cinnamon whirls and make some comments about Derek needing feeding. There are a couple more yuppies on their way to work, who think it's 'cool' to live in the rougher neighborhoods, and still Derek and Stiles don't really say anything. Stiles doesn't know what to say. He doesn't like the awkward whenever what Derek does comes up. 

Jimmy comes in through the back, says hello to them both, and then that's it, they're free to go. 

The wind's bitter on his face when he gets outside, and pulling the collar of his jacket up does nothing to stop it. They've had the same cold snap for over a month now, and he can't remember anything like it. 

Derek's pulling his stupidly impractical leather jacket close around him. "See you tomorrow?" 

Stiles hesitates, not because he doesn't want to see Derek tomorrow, but because he feels like a bit of a dick letting Derek walk to wherever he's going to sleep in this weather. "Do you want a ride?"

"You don't know where I live."

Stiles shrugs. "I've got plenty of time to get to school, you can't be that far out of my way."

"Where do you go to school?"

Oh, he's surprised this has never come up. He just assumed that Derek knew because of Scott and Isaac. "Beacon Hills High, it's only a half hour drive from here."

Derek nods, like he'd expected that answer. Maybe he did know. "I don't--it's not too far for me to walk."

"Dude, it's freezing. How about I'll drop you as far as I can that's not out of my way, does that work for you?"

Derek thinks about it for a minute, before starting to move toward Stiles' car. "I live--the place I stay is in Beacon Hills." 

"Oh, dude, we're totally hometown bros!" 

There's a snort from Derek as Stiles leans over to unlock his door. "We're not 'bros'."

"You wound me!" Stiles pulls on his seatbelt. "We are totally bros. We watched Avengers together, man, that means something."

There's no music in Stiles' Jeep. The radio's been shot since he got it, and it's kinda hard to hear anything over the sound of the road and the engine, but that's okay, because over the past few weeks he's got comfortable in Derek's presence. They're good at sitting in silence together. 

So good, in fact, that by the time they reach the limits of Beacon Hills, and Stiles turns to ask Derek where he lives, he finds him fast asleep in his passenger seat. Crap. 

When Derek's asleep he looks so, so much younger, for a second Stiles can actually believe that there's only five years between them. He thinks about wherever Derek's sleeping. He takes in the same clothes he's been wearing nearly every time he's seen him, the dirty smudges on the plain henley and the worn patches on the jeans. 

It takes a minute but he figures his dad's out at work all day, and Stiles is at school, Derek could probably get some sleep in a decent bed, and maybe a warm shower, put his clothes through the washer and dryer. 

So maybe he makes the decision without asking him, but Derek looks so fucking peaceful that, yeah, Stiles takes him back to his. 

He pulls up outside and his dad's cruiser is already gone. Derek wakes up as the engine cuts out and is instantly awake. There's no sleepy, half awake Derek, just one second he's dead to the world, the next he's alert and awake. 

"Where are we?" Derek stares up at his house and suddenly Stiles is nervous, maybe this wasn't the best idea. 

"I thought you might want to come in and--" Stiles falters, suddenly saying what he'd thought out loud sounds stupid. It feels like he's making assumptions about Derek's living conditions. 

"No that's, it's fine." There's something about Derek's response that--oh, he said yes. 

"Cool, okay, I'll just--" Stiles jumps out of his Jeep and watches Derek do it way smoother than he's ever managed. 

It feels weird bringing Derek into his house. No one ever comes here apart from his dad and Scott, it's...yeah, it's weird. 

He gestures for Derek to follow him up the stairs. "The bathroom's on the left there, and my room's here." 

Derek leans in the doorway, leather jacket in hand, slowly taking his room in. Stiles is suddenly self-conscious about the childishness of his room--the stupid skater on the wall, the band posters, hell the fucking state of it. 

"I know, it's a total mess." He flops onto his bed that he'd left only four hours ago. "I figured if you wanted to, you could--" He doesn't get to say, 'use my bed for a nap' because Derek's there, standing right in front of him, hands going to the buckle of his jeans. 

Stiles struggles up on his bed. "Uh--?"

"You want this, yeah?" Derek asks, slowly unpopping the buttons on his jeans and letting them hang open. 

"Um--" Stiles literally cannot think right now, like, he knew he liked Derek, but he had no idea Derek liked him back. This is--whoa, okay, that's Derek's cock, because quite apparently he doesn't believe in underwear. 

"Stiles?" Derek brings a hand up to cup his face, and the head of it against his skin makes him want _more_. 

"Yes, yeah, yes, this is good." Stiles licks his lips nervously. 

"Is this your first time?" Derek's thumb is rubbing gently over Stiles' cheek bone. He doesn't think that should be so much of a turn on, but no one's ever even touched him before, not like this. Shit, he's never even kissed anyone. 

"I...there..." Shit, should he tell the truth? Would that make Derek stop? 

"You don't have to lie, Stiles. It doesn't matter to me." 

He bites his lip. "This is--yeah, I've never...anything." 

Derek nods and leans in to kiss him, Derek's lips are a little chapped, but so are his. He has no idea what to do, so he lets Derek take the lead. There's stubble brushing against his skin and Derek's hand hasn't moved; he's still cupping Stiles's face and keeping him in place. Derek licks against the seam of Stiles lips, and he gets the idea, opening his mouth and wow okay, there's Derek's tongue. 

He can feel his head spinning as he moans into the kiss. He can't help it, he flushes with embarrassment at the idea that he made that noise. Then Derek's pulling away and fuck, fuck, fuck Stiles is panting, gasping for breath. 

"Breathe, Stiles." Derek's hand slips up and runs over Stiles' buzzcut. Stiles leans into the touch, part of him wants it more than anything: Derek's touch, Derek's attention. 

"Do you want me to fuck you?" Derek hand slips down to his neck. "Or do you want to fuck me?" 

Stiles stares up at Derek dumbly. He has no idea what he wants. He hasn't spent any time imagining this, nothing specific, nothing more than the fleeting ideas of strong arms holding him, stubble against his skin, Derek's focus on no one but him. 

"I don't--" 

"We don't have to fuck, we could just--there's a lot of other things we could do, but..." 

"I want to...I want you to fuck me." Stiles flushes and looks away; he can't look at Derek and say this. 

Stiles thinks he's done something wrong, because Derek's pulling away, but he's only stripping out of his shirt and his jeans. "You can keep them on if you want," Derek teases and Stiles scrabbles to take his clothes off. 

Derek quirks an eyebrow at the _Iron Man_ underwear, and Stiles flips him off. "You're just jealous, dude. At least I wear underwear." 

When they're naked, Derek kneels onto the bed and presses Stiles back into it. He wants to feel awkward, he doesn't know where to put his hands, but Derek doesn't let him get like that. He leans over Stiles, thigh pressed between his, keeping him just off Stiles' cock. Derek's arms are bracketing Stiles' head. It's all kind of overwhelming. It's like they've gone from zero to sixty in zero point one seconds flat. 

Derek noses gently across Stiles jaw before whispering in his ear. "Are you still sure you want to do this? If you change your mind, say stop, and we'll stop."

Stiles nods and brings his hands up to touch Derek, resting them awkwardly on his hips, loose enough that he can let go if it's something he's not supposed to do. It's then that Derek dips down to kiss down Stiles' neck, latching on and sucking at his throat. 

Whatever it is goes straight to his dick, and he bucks up against Derek, looking for any kind of friction. He finds his fingers digging into Derek's hips now and he wants _more_. "Derek..." he pleads. 

"You make the prettiest sounds." Derek slips down Stiles chest, sucking and licking a path as he goes. 

There's something in Stiles' mind that he's had drilled into him over and over again: safe sex and how he should be doing it. It makes his mind flick to what Derek does, how other people have had him, and fuck, he doesn't want to think about that now, because all that matters is that Derek has chosen to have Stiles. 

"There's a condom in the top drawer." 

Stiles half expects Derek to stop, but he doesn't, instead he just reaches over and pulls it out. "Any lube?"

"A little further back." 

When Derek pulls the tube out, Stiles blushes because, yeah, okay, it's half gone already. Derek grins down at him as he holds it up. "Been having fun?"

Stiles ducks his head. "Maybe."

Derek sits back on his thighs, resting between Stiles' spread legs. There's a slight breeze caressing his cock, his balls, his fucking hole. He's never been this exposed before, and it's just making his dick twitch. 

"You ever put anything up there before?" Derek's squirting a little lube out onto his fingers and letting it warm up. 

"Just my fingers." Stiles gaze has locked with Derek's, and he can't look away.

"How many?" 

Derek's leaned forward, so Stiles' reply is almost whispered into his mouth. "Only two." 

They're kissing again, and Stiles thinks he could become addicted to this, to the slick-slide of Derek's tongue against his, to the feeling of being swallowed whole by Derek. He's so distracted by the kissing it takes him a minute to register the finger carefully stroking over his hole. When he realizes, he tenses up. 

Lips pull away from his to whisper, "Relax, you know it's better if you relax." Then they're back again and Derek's drawing him in, his breath is hot against Stiles' face, their noses bumping as Derek slips a finger in. 

Derek's fingers feel different from his, just because they're _not his_. There's someone inside of him. A few minutes later there's another finger stroking, and then more pressure, and then, okay, yeah. 

He hitches his legs up around Derek to give him better access. Derek's biting at his neck, and Stiles wraps his arms around him, holding him as close as he can. The third finger burns a bit, but Derek adds more lube, and that's as far as he goes, just working the fingers in and out, hooking them up until Stiles is writhing beneath him. 

"Derek..." Stiles pleads again. There's a stickiness to the sweat gathering between them that's the precome. Stiles's cock is leaking. 

Every now and then there's a tease of something that makes it feel like Stiles is coming, a bright burst of sensation that has him moaning for more. 

"Do you want to come now?" Derek asks with a firm thrust inside of Stiles, his thumb pinching up to put pressure on his perineum. "Or would you rather come with me inside you?" 

It takes a minute for the words to get through, but when they do, Stiles knows exactly what he wants. "Inside, I want to come when you're inside of me." At those words Derek pulls out and Stiles wants him back immediately. 

"Do you want me to use the condom?" Derek fingers the packet. 

Stiles blinks. "Why wouldn't I? My dad always says safe sex is the best sex." He scrunches up his nose. "Note to self: never fucking mention dad during sex again."

Derek looks like he wants to say something, and the idea that Derek would fuck someone without a condom makes Stiles insist he wears it. But Derek doesn't say anything. He just shrugs and tears the packet open, pinching the tip and rolling it down his dick. 

"It'd be easier for you if you were on your front, for your first time." Derek says it in a way that makes Stiles wants to ask how his first time was, and then he realizes that if they're being this intimate he can? 

"How did you do it your first time?" Stiles is exposed in every sense of the word. He's trusting Derek here and it's such...Stiles hasn't trusted people this easily since...for a while. 

Derek's expression goes dark, like he's suddenly remembered something distasteful. Now Stiles doesn't think he wants to know about Derek's first time. "It's not a good comparison," is all he says. 

"I like--I feel better when I'm looking at you." Stiles prepares to be shot down, but doesn't think Derek will. 

Derek nods. "We can make that work. We'll just have to start off slow, okay?" Derek grabs a pillow, and when Stiles sees it's going under his hips, he grabs it back off of him.

"Nah, that's a...I like that pillow." He passes one of his crappier ones down to Derek, one that's less of a comfort pillow. 

One leg, then the other is pushed up, until he's spread open before Derek. "You're gonna need to hold yourself open for me while I line myself up."

Derek's covered his cock in even more fucking lube, and when the blunt, latex-covered head presses against his hole, he feels himself tense up. 

"Stiles, it's no bigger than three fingers, okay? And it's fucking designed for this, so calm and it'll be fine."

Stiles nods and Derek presses forwards. He's still tensed up, so yeah, there's some burn, but Derek's everywhere. He's inside him, he's around him. They're close enough that the air that Stiles is breathing in is even Derek's. 

He'll never admit the wetness near his eyes are tears, because fuck that, but it's all a little bit too much, and then Derek bottoms out. There are balls pressing against his ass. There's Derek now taking the strain of keeping his legs in place, hooking his arms up to keep them open, and then kissing him and dropping kisses all over his face.

The wetness that isn't tears (he's not crying, bitches), is being kissed away by Derek, and there's something so horribly gentle about it that Stiles isn't entirely sure he can take it. Then Derek moves, and fuck his life, Stiles sees stars, or, more likely blinding spots of pleasure that tease as Derek moves within him. 

It doesn't even take Derek's hand to pump him back to fullness, because as he thrusts inside of him, his dick jerks between them, and then Stiles just can't keep up. Derek starts off slow and picks up and up until he's pumping in and out of Stiles. 

When Stiles doesn't think he can take any more, that he's going to do something embarrassing like coming without Derek even touching him, a hand lets go of his leg and reaches between them to grasp ahold of Stiles' cock. 

He nudges off Derek's other arm, and wraps his legs tight around Derek's back, clinging to him with everything he has as Derek roughly jerks between them to bring them off. 

Stiles comes with Derek's name of his lips and Derek's cock in his ass. He comes so hard that he fucking ceases to be for a few minutes. He feels Derek's thrusts go erratic. He feels a sharp bite at the skin on his throat, and then Derek's slowing down, dropping his weight onto Stiles. 

"Fuck," Derek breathes into Stiles' neck, lapping gently at the hurt he's made there. 

"Yeah," Stiles agrees. 

They lay in silence for a few moments. Derek's heavy, but Stiles can take it. 

Derek takes one oddly deep sniff of his neck before pulling away. "Are you okay?" 

Stiles nods. "Yeah."

Derek reaches down and holds the base of the condom as he pulls out of Stiles. Derek gets up and off, and with sweat cooling on his skin, Stiles shivers without Derek there to keep him warm. 

But Derek's back a moment later, warm wash cloth to clean Stiles carefully. 

"You woulda looked so pretty painted with my come," Derek mutters.

Stiles thinks he wasn't supposed to hear it, but he did, so he responds, "Yeah."

Derek smiles up at him. "Can you say anything but 'yeah'?"

"Yeah?" Stiles tries, and then they're laughing, because fuck, he just lost his virginity and it was hot as fuck. 

It takes a few moments for their giggling to die down, and when it does, he's wrapped himself around Derek, because part of him wants this closeness, needs it. What they just did was intense, and he just needs a minute, and fuck, maybe he is a cuddler. Maybe this is why people want to cuddle after sex. 

"Fuck, I'm going to be late for school." 

Derek stills next to him, and Stiles knows he's said something wrong. "I should go. We're done here."

Stiles frowns. "I thought--even if I have to go to school you could shower, and there's the washer-dryer, and if I'm at school there's always my bed, you could--" 

"Stiles..." Derek sounds tired. It makes him remember that Derek's already worked all night, already--shit, he's probably already had sex tonight. 

"Please, at least have a shower and--I'll go to school, but just get some sleep, okay? And if you're here when I get home, we can watch _Iron Man 3_?"

Derek doesn't exactly enthusiastically agree, but he nods. "Sure, if I'm here. Now go shower." 

The shower's quick, and his ass is a little sore, but he likes the ache, it reminds him that Derek was there. He has to wear a pretty high-collared shirt to hide some of the worst of what Derek did to his neck, but part of him likes that, too. It's like Derek's told the world that Stiles is his. 

When he comes back into the room, Derek hasn't left, but he has pulled his jeans back on. Stiles wants to lean in for a kiss before he leaves, even makes an aborted gesture to, but he stops himself. Something feels weird between them, and he doesn't understand why. 

"I just, I guess I should get to school. I can still make second period." 

Derek nods, and Stiles thinks that's it, he's just going to--go, yeah. When he's at the doorway to his room, Derek calls out, "Stiles?"

He turns, and Derek's there, right up in his space. "Yeah?"

The kiss is sweet like their first kiss, when Derek had asked if he was sure he wanted to do this. Stiles has this horrible sinking feeling that it's a goodbye kiss. When they break apart, he finds himself reluctant to let go of Derek. 

"We'll watch __Iron Man 3__ when I get home, yeah?"

Derek nods. "Sure." 

"Okay."

"Okay."

Stiles doesn't want to go to school, but he can't think of a way to stay without seeming like a needy, pushy dick. 

School lasts forever, and he gets detention for being late. When he gets home, Derek isn't there, but his bed's been neatly made and a load of washing has been done. That's something at least, right?

The thing is, Derek's not anywhere near the alley for the rest of the week. Or on the weekend. It's not the first time Derek hasn’t shown up for a while, but this time is different. Sex made it different. The third time he finds himself taking out a half-empty trash bag just so he can check the group of guys at the end of the alley, he has to kick himself.

This is stupid; he's being stupid. Obviously Derek got whatever he wanted, and he has no reason to come around anymore. Maybe it was just retribution for helping take Isaac away, maybe it was something else. 

Stiles can't shake the feeling that's not what Derek's like, not from the time they've spent together, the conversations they've had. 

He even works himself up to talking to some of the other guys who hang around the end of the alley, but none of them have seen him. 

So yeah, Christmas sucks, New Year sucks, because somewhere out there is Derek, and either something's happened to him, or he changed his entire routine just to avoid Stiles. 

Fuck.

If there's one thing Stiles doesn't particularly want to do, it's talk to Isaac about Derek. He slides into the seat opposite Scott at lunch, setting his tray with a clatter.

"Hey Stiles," Scott greets. Isaac just gives him a head-nod. 

It's not like Stiles hates Isaac. It's just been him and Scott against the world for so long that it feels weird for it to be him, Scott, and Isaac now. Isaac lives with Scott as well, so they're bonding in a completely different way, and they spend way, way more time together than Scott and Stiles do. 

So, it's not that Stiles hates Isaac, it's just that he doesn't like sharing Scott. 

"What's up?" Scott takes a sip of his soda.

Stiles isn't prone to dramatics. At all. "Everything sucks, and I hate the universe."

Scott nods along. "What happened?" 

The thing is, he doesn't really want to tell Scott what happened, because even if Scott is a total bro and won't tell anyone or judge him for it, he doesn't want to look that stupid, besides, Isaac is listening in. 

"Nothing, I just haven't seen Derek around for a while, and I promised I'd watch _Iron Man 3_ with him."

"Bro, we can watch _Iron Man 3_. We can turn it into a movie night; it'll be fun."

Stiles sighs and fiddles with his pasta salad. "I guess, but you've already seen it."

"So have you."

Stiles stabs a piece of pasta. "Yeah, but Derek hadn't, and watching them with him was kinda fun." 

He side-eyes Isaac. "I don't suppose you know if he's got a phone number, or a way to contact him, would you?" 

Isaac blinks at him--butter wouldn't melt expression on his face. "Derek doesn't have a phone. I haven't spoken to him since I moved in with Scott."

Stiles narrows his eyes. There's no way he can prove Isaac's lying, but that just doesn't feel like Derek. But, what does he know? He didn't think Derek was going to up and leave the second he fucked him, so, fuck it. 

Scott kicks his ankle. "What do you say, _Iron Man 3_ and loads of junk food?"

He shrugs. "Can I take a raincheck? I want to wait and see if Derek turns up first."

"Stiles..." Scott says hesitantly. "You've been spending a lot of with Derek recently." 

"Yeah, and you've been spending a lot of time with Isaac. So what?" 

"Yeah, but Isaac isn't..." He trails off, looking around to see if anyone can hear them. 

"But Isaac was. I don't see what the problem is." Stiles knows Scott is only looking out for him, but fuck it, if he can be friends with a hooker, why can't Stiles? They're just people. 

"Just, be careful, Stiles."

"Whatever, dude. I've got to get to class, see you later." 

He splits before Scott can say anything else, leaving his half-finished lunch behind. The thing is, Scott's pretty much warning him way too late. He's got two options and they both suck, option one is Derek's a dick, and option two is something has happened to Derek. He doesn't want either one to be true.

The pretty obvious option, after a month of Derek not showing up anywhere, is to make a police report. The only problem with this is that the police is his dad.

They're sitting down eating vegetable casserole when he honestly can't not ask. It's been a month, a whole month of no one seeing or hearing from Derek. He can't believe Derek would just walk out on him, not after that, it really...it felt like something special between them. 

"What's wrong, kiddo?" His dad stabs a carrot and swipes up some sauce. 

"What makes you think something's wrong?" He can't help getting defensive. 

"They didn't vote me into this job for my pretty face, and you're not exactly hard to read. Something's been bothering you for the last...four weeks?" 

Stiles narrows his eyes at his dad. He thought he'd been keeping it all under control. Apparently not. "You don't have to be family to file a missing persons report, right?" It's not like he's not researched this, but... 

"Who's missing? Someone at school? Can't their guardians file one?" 

"I...there's this guy who's near the bakery a lot, out back in the alley, for the last month he hasn’t been around so much. Or at all, kinda at all."

"Hmm. Is he homeless?"

Stiles flashes back to Derek's worn jeans, his dirty top, finding him asleep in the doorway, but his insistence that he had to head home to Beacon Hills. "Maybe?"

His dad lets out a long-suffering sigh. "And if he's not homeless, what's he doing in the alley?"

Stiles hesitates, this is where the questions come, where his dad shuts him down. "He works there." At the look of anger on his dad's face, he starts rambling. "It's not like that! Dad, he was nearly freezing to death, and then we got talking, and he was really cool, and I don't think it was his fault he was out there, and he likes the same stuff as me, so we were watching the movies together. But, then, I don't know, he stopped showing up and that was like a month ago, and now I'm worried that something might have happened with him, and--"

His dad's a vivid shade of red now. "Stiles! You..." He deflates, the anger fading. "You're too much like your mom sometimes." 

Stiles's voice is small when he speaks. "I just wanted to help him."

"Okay, kiddo, I'm not sure what I can do, so why don't you start with a description." 

That he can do. He flicks through his phone, looking for a picture of Derek, skipping the weird ones where there's lens glare (on a fucking camera phone), and settles on a side-shot. "This is him. His name's Derek, and he's originally from Beacon Hills."

His dad takes the phone and studies the image carefully before sighing again. "Stiles, you really know how to pick 'em. That's Derek Hale."

Stiles snatches the phone back and stares at the picture. Everyone in Beacon Hills knows about the Hale fire, he didn't--he'd never thought about who got out of the fire or what had happened to them. 

"How many of them survived?" He stares down at the laughing picture of Derek. He'd taken it while Derek was watching _Iron Man_ , just because he could, because it was such a great moment that he wanted to be able to look at it again and again.

"Technically, two of them, Derek and his older sister Laura, but she was mostly burned in the fire. She's been in Beacon Hills Memorial since. They took Derek into care, but he ran away pretty quickly. I've been picking him up for prostitution since he was sixteen, kid."

He thinks back to when he'd asked about Derek's first time, the dark look that'd crossed his face. Sixteen. Derek had been selling himself since he was Stiles' age. 

"Did anything happen before he went missing? Anything out of the ordinary." 

Stiles hesitates. It's not like his dad really needs to know, but-- "No, nothing unusual. We watched _Iron Man 2_ , and then, yeah, I haven’t seen him since." 

His dad nods. "And, what's the name of the kid that's staying with Scott and Melissa?"

"Isaac?"

"Chances of you knowing two prostitutes separately are pretty low, so tell me, does Isaac know Derek?"

"Maybe a little?"

"And what does he think about all this?"

"He didn't seem to think it was a problem. But Isaac's kind of a dick, so he was probably just saying that because I cared where Derek was." The more Stiles thinks about it, the more sure he is that Isaac was holding something back. Derek wouldn't have let Isaac go without a way to contact him, he's sure of it. 

"I'll see what I can do, kid, see if anyone's picked him up recently, but I can't promise anything." 

"I know dad, thanks."

His dad gives him the look that says he knows Stiles is probably going to do something he shouldn't. "Just--don't do anything stupid, okay? Let me handle this."

"I won't do anything stupid dad. I promise." It won't be something stupid, it'll be something clever, probably. 

His dad narrows his eyes at him, but lets it go.

Stiles does something stupid. He figures that if Laura isn't going anywhere, and Derek is...well, Derek's Derek. It doesn't take much to sneak a look at the registers behind the desk and see that Derek is still visiting Laura every Thursday, in fact, and what's one day of school? Consider this him taking back the day he should have skipped to stay and sort things out with Derek.

Sitting in his Jeep in the parking lot of the hospital makes him feel like a total creeper, but the thing is, he just needs to _see_ with his own eyes that Derek is alive and okay. Then he can let him be. 

Except it doesn't quite go according to plan, because Derek sees him first. Stiles might slink down in his car, because Derek looks fucking angry. 

He marches toward the car, stopping next to it and glaring at Stiles. Stiles gets out of the car, because fuck it, Derek is there, and Derek's okay, so why the hell has he been avoiding him? If Derek's angry, he can be angry too, because he's beginning to feel like he was _used_.

"What do you think you're doing here?" Derek asks, the anger nowhere near hidden in his voice. 

"I wanted to make sure you were alive!"

"Well, quite clearly I am, so you can get out of here. I don't want to see you around here again."

Stiles gapes. He tries to say something, but he just ends up moving his lips without any sound coming out. 

"I don't see you going." Derek's hunched in on himself, and while he still sounds angry, Stiles can hear the bitterness in it. 

"I don't understand what I did wrong." Because fuck it, it might have been his first time, and he might be coming across as a needy kid, but fuck it, Derek's being a dick. 

Derek laughs at him--a hollow, bitter sound. "That's the thing, Stiles. When you're fucking a hooker, you can't do anything wrong. We're there for you to use."

"But it wasn't..." Stiles doesn't get it. Derek is a hooker, but they weren't-- "I didn't pay you, it wasn't--I thought you liked me."

"Liked you? We hung out and then you got me in your Jeep, drove me to your house, and showed me your bedroom. What the fuck did you think we were doing?"

"It wasn't..." Fuck, fuck, how the fucking fuck could he have been so stupid? There's a cold ball of dread building in his stomach. It makes him want to be sick. To him it had been something beautiful, something intimate. Derek had just been doing his job. Stiles had just been another person to use him. 

"It wasn't what? It was a transaction, Stiles. You let me watch the films, I fucked you. That's what I do. That's what you wanted, right?"

That's so far from what he wanted. Fuck. "That wasn't--I didn't want to wake you, you looked so fucking peaceful, so I thought, 'It's cold, Stiles, and Derek looks like he could use a good day’s rest'. I just invited you in so you could have a place to sleep and be out of the cold. I thought you understood, and then you were there, you were kissing me, and I..." He's going to be sick. '

Derek stares at him. "You think that's how people fuck, Stiles? From nothing to everything in no time at all? How naive are you?" 

"I don't know! I was a fucking virgin! I don't know how things like this work, Derek! You were the first person I'd ever kissed, hell, you're the only person I've ever kissed. I'm kinda looking at you for how to do this, and you're not really helping. I thought you were dead. I thought you were in trouble!"

Derek doesn't say anything, just stands there angrily breathing. 

"I'm just a teenager, Derek, and I thought we had something, I thought--I thought we were friends at the very least." He really thought they could have had something.

"That's it, Stiles." The heat's gone, Derek just sounds hollow. "You're just a teenager. That's why we can't do this, why we could never do this."

That makes Stiles angry, because what the fuck? "So I'm old enough to fuck, but I'm not old enough to date, is that what you're trying to tell me?" 

Derek's quiet for a few moments and Stiles gets ready to say something else, but then he speaks, "Leave me alone, Stiles."

"Derek, I thought we were friends."

"We're not. We never were." At those words, something inside Stiles crumples because, fuck, he knows people are shitty, but _fuck_.

Derek walks away and Stiles just stands there next to his Jeep, for far, far too long.

It's not that he spends the next week wallowing in his room, sulking in his dad's oversized castoffs. Except he does. He lies there, browses the internet, and tries not to think about Derek fucking Hale.

The problem is everything reminds him of Derek. He looks at his bed, and he sees a fucked out Derek laying there, giggling because all Stiles can say is 'yeah'. He tries to put a movie on, and he has to skim over all his favorites, because every single one of them had reminded him of Derek. He goes to work, it's the same. He talks to his dad, it's the same. 

"You haven't asked about Derek in a few days," his dad says over a bowl of pasta one evening. 

Stiles shrugs. "Don't need to; he's alive." He stabs a piece of pasta so hard that the fork skreeks against the bowl. 

"Do we need to talk about it, kiddo?"

"Nothing to talk about." He stuffs a forkful of pasta into his mouth, and another, until he can't close his mouth and has to chew with it open. 

His dad sighs and puts his fork down. "I think we should talk." 

Stiles mumbles through the mouthful, spewing bits onto the table. The message is clear: "Sorry, can't talk, eating."

"I can wait." His dad crosses his arms, so Stiles stuffs another mouthful of pasta in. 

He tries for a fourth, but his dad takes the bowl away. 

"Stiles, I need to know if he hurt you, if I need to go arrest him."

Stiles chews and swallows as quickly as he can. "No! I mean, that's the problem. He _won't_ , he says I'm too young, but I didn't--I would have been happy if we were just friends, dad."

"He's right. He's too old for you, and too...the world's not been kind to Derek Hale, but he hasn't made the best decisions. You get that, right?"

"I know, I just--he doesn't feel much older than me, or Scott. Hell, I'm like a hundred times the responsible adult he is."

"But you're not an adult, kid, he is."

"I know, I just--it's not fair, dad."

"I know, but life isn't."

"It sucks."

"If I could protect you from it, drawn it out a little longer before you saw how ugly it could be, I would have. I'm sorry."

Stiles sighs. "Can I have my dinner back?"

His dad pushes the bowl over. "If you need anything, or someone to talk to that's not me, just, don't try and handle things alone. We're there for you."

"I know. Thanks, dad."

They eat the rest of the meal in quiet, just the clank of cutlery and the squidge of the pasta. The thing is, even if they can't be more than friends, he misses just being friends with Derek. They don't need the sex. Things were good before, and Stiles wants to go back to that, because Derek's the first almost-friend Stiles has made since Scott, and he doesn't want to lose that.

Stiles figures the best way to get something out of Isaac is to do it when Scott isn't around. "Derek's got to have a phone."

"Stiles! What the hell are you doing here? I didn't see you--" Isaac's all shock and surprise, but Stiles doesn't care. 

"Derek wouldn't have let you go if he didn't have an easy way to contact you and make sure you're alright."

"I don't--he didn't, he doesn't." Isaac glares at Stiles, but it's nothing compared to a Derek-glare and Stiles can take the full force of that. 

"Come on, I just need to _talk_ to him, okay? We just--there was a stupid misunderstanding, and I just want us to--I just want to talk to him, Isaac. I miss being his friend, and I know we can fix it."

Isaac hesitates for a moment. "I'm not supposed to give this out to anyone."

He pulls his phone out of his pocket. It's Scott's old one that they'd got a new SIM for. "I won't--if he tells me to back off, I will. I just want a chance," Stiles promises. 

Stiles taps the number into his phone and thanks Isaac again. "I owe you one, man."

Isaac shrugs. "Consider this me repaying a favor."

He finishes saving the number under 'Derek', no nickname, no stupid emoticons. "What?"

When he tries to catch Isaac's eye, he finds he can't. "Me being here with Scott, it wouldn't have happened without you, even if you were kind of a dick about it, you still did it. So. Thank you."

"Oh, that's...you're welcome, I guess. I mean."

There's an awkward silence for a moment, shattered by the bell ringing. 

"Guess I better get to class. Thanks, Isaac, and you're welcome. Catch you around."

It takes Stiles two days to figure out what he's even going to say to Derek. He doesn't think straight out bringing up any of their issues is going to get him anywhere, but he has no idea where to actually start.

He's walking past the movie theater when he sees the posters for Thor 2, and all he can think is, oh man, has Derek seen them yet? So he texts. _have you seen the Thor 2 posters yet? His hair looks awesome!_

Not letting himself over think, he hits 'send' and drops his phone back into his pocket. 

His phone buzzes just after six. _I think you've got the wrong number_

_Not if this is you, Derek_

There's a pause for a couple of hours, and Stiles tries not to think about why, because Derek _does_ reply. 

_I don't want to talk to you stiles, go find some friends your own age_

He frowns down at the screen. He can do this, slow and steady, Rome wasn't built in a day or something. It's not being a stalker if it's all relevant info Derek might want to know, right? Maybe he'll google that shit. He just wants to be friends again. 

The next time he has a thought to share with Derek, he's at the bakery. _Natalie brought the baby by the bakery, here's a pic._

There's no response to that one, but no request to stop, so he carries on, even if he gets no response. 

_I fucking love curly fries, they are like the food of the gods._ When he has some pretty amazing curly fries. 

_Isaac got an A on his history paper_ The sight of Isaac fishing his phone out of his pocket a few minutes later and the subsequent smile lets Stiles know he's still reading them.

_It's a disgrace there's not a Black Widow movie, it'd be amazing_

_I miss talking to you, still waiting to watch _Iron Man 3_ with you. I promise you it's better than 2._

_Have you ever tried pizza rolls?_

_Dad said he saw you today and you looked cold, dude, get a new coat._

It's when he gets to work one day and catches sight of one of the new boys blowing someone behind the dumpster that he can't help but text Derek. _One of the new kids on the block is like thirteen, that fucking sucks._

The next morning, Derek is back working at the end of the alley. Stiles doesn't approach him, but he catches Derek's eye once and he nods, and Stiles thinks, okay, maybe they're getting somewhere. 

He carries on texting Derek, not expecting a reply because they're normally open-ended statements. 

It's ass o'clock in the morning and Stiles just can't fucking sleep. His shift starts in two hours, and there's no one he knows who would even be awake to keep him company. He toys with his phone a little. _Can't sleep, thought you might be awake._

He jumps when his phone beeps; he wasn't expecting a reply. _I'm not really one for sleeping_

Stiles bites back on the reply about how fucking cute Derek had looked sleeping. He flits around for something else to think about. _you thought about getting a new coat yet? something that will actually keep you warm_

 _I like my jacket, it was my uncle's_ That's not just a reply. It's something personal. This is like, progress. 

_I don't think he'd want you to be cold. We've got a load of old ones, you're welcome to any_

_I don't know, Peter was kind of a jerk. I'm sure he'd like to know he's remembered_

He's trying to keep things open-ended, but he can't really think of anything to talk about. _I saw the new kid's gone. Is he ok?_

There's a space of twenty minutes where Derek doesn't reply, and Stiles wonders if it was something he said. _I called your dad, he took James_

Oh, dad hadn't said anything. _I'm surprised_

_Why? You said your dad was one of the good ones_

That Derek listened to him, believed him, it means something but Stiles isn't quite sure what. They trade texts back and forth until Stiles falls asleep between one and another.

A couple of days later, he gets to work and finds Derek folded up asleep in the doorway.

"Derek," Stiles calls, loud enough to wake, hopefully, but not to get anyone else's attention. 

It's like before in the car, one second Derek's asleep, the next he's awake. 

"Hey Stiles." He gets to his feet and stretches in a way that Stiles isn't going to focus on. 

This is the first time they've talked in person since the hospital, and Stiles doesn't know what to say. 

"It's nice it's warming up, isn't it?" For fuck sake is he talking about the weather?

Derek squints at him. "Uh, yeah." 

They stand there awkwardly for a moment. 

"Look, I think maybe--if you're around after my shift, could we sit down and talk? There are a few things that, yeah, we should talk." Stiles feels really fucking grown up right now, thank you very much. 

"Don't you have school to get to?" 

Stiles shakes his head. "Spring break. After my shift I've got the rest of the day free. How do you feel about milkshakes?"

"Milkshakes?" Derek sounds suspicious. 

"Milkshakes. There's a diner around the corner that does the best strawberry milkshakes in the world."

"Stiles... this sounds a lot like a date." 

"It's not, it's just two... people talking over milkshakes. No expectations, just, yeah. So, milkshakes?"

Derek lets out a breath, like it's a massive decision. "Okay, but their banana milkshake better be good."

Stiles laughs, and feels lighter than he has in weeks. "I'm sure it'll be awesome." He fiddles with the keys to the bakery. "Want to come in and nap on the sofa while I work? It's a lot softer than the doorway."

Derek hesitates. "I don't know if that's such a great idea."

"Dude, come in, seriously, what're you going to do instead? I'll even give you first pick on any misshapen or burned pastries."

Derek agrees, but sulks when the first cast-offs are almond croissants. 

"I hate almond," he complains, eating around the burned bits. 

Stiles laughs. "You could have waited for whatever fucks up next! The pecan danishes are about to go in the dodgy oven, and I know you love them." The hopeful look on Derek's face is enough to make him cave. "Okay, okay, if any pecans mess up, they're yours."

By the time he's opened the front of the shop, Derek is fast asleep on the sofa, curled up into a little ball with his jacket wrapped around him. 

It's Jimmy who wakes Derek up, when he lets himself in through the back. 

What Derek's probably not expecting is for Jimmy to greet him so familiarly. "Derek! Haven't seen you around in ages. How are you?"

He walks over and shakes his hand. Derek's a little shell-shocked. "Uh, good. I'm good."

"It's nice to see things are okay between you and Stiles again; he's been sulking around for months now."

Derek shoots him a look, and Stiles shrugs, he's not going to hide the fact that he missed their friendship. 

Stiles runs him through the deliveries and what they're running low on. Jimmy groans when he hears they're already out of bagels, and there are no more ready to bake. "I swear, some days I could really use an assistant here."

"Ah, I would say I've got the rest of the day off today, but I already agreed to have milkshakes with Derek." 

"Don't worry about it, kid. I'm thinking a little bit more long term anyway." 

Stiles nods. "Well, if you're thinking someone a little bit more long term, I've paid my dad back for the repairs to the Jeep, so, yeah." He runs a hand over the back of his head. "It's been awesome, but dude, I don't know how anyone gets up at ass o'clock every day."

Jimmy nods. "I'll think about it. You don't know anyone who's looking for a job, do you?" 

Stiles doesn't look at Derek. He doesn't. 

"I...I'll see if I know anyone." He grabs hold of Derek's arm. "C'mon, we've got milkshakes to get. Bye Jimmy."

"Bye Stiles, bye Derek!"

"Bye, Jimmy."

The diner's clean and bright, a little bit too bright for this hour of the morning. The breakfast rush is still going on, but Stiles and Derek manage to snag a booth at the back, away from the hustle of the morning.

They sit there quietly until the waitress comes and asks for their orders. 

"So..." Stiles starts, but he doesn't actually know how to begin this. He figures if they can go back to being friends, he can't leave what happened between them unaddressed. He's fine with it if Derek never wants to do it again, but, well, okay, he's not 'fine' with it, but he won't be a dick about it. He'd rather have Derek as his friend than not at all. 

It's Derek that kicks off the conversations, though. "I'm sorry." 

That stops Stiles mid-thought. "Uh, what?"

Derek huffs, looks like it's costing him the world to say this. "I'm sorry I slept with you. I'm sorry I took your virginity. It wasn't fair to you."

"Whoa, whoa, _dude_ , don't apologize for that part. That was a total misunderstanding! You can apologize for being a dick _afterward_."

Derek's movements are jerky, frustrated. "You don't understand, Stiles, your first time should be special. I took that from you."

"Hey no, _you_ don't understand. It _was_ special."

"How can you say that? It was with a hooker, someone who was doing their job." 

That hurts, it does, but Stiles can't shake off how tender Derek was with him, how careful. "Are you honestly going to tell me you fuck all of your customers like that?"

Derek won't meet his eye, picks at the peeling formica on the table. "I don't know what you mean."

"You might be the only person I've been with, but it felt right with you. You were kind and patient and really fucking hot, and we laughed and, Jesus, my neck was a fucking mess for weeks. It was everything I wanted my first time to be, except, you know, the end."

Derek is staring at the table like it's the most interesting thing in the world. He doesn't say anything. 

"Look, I'm not asking you to date me. I'm not asking you not to be a prostitute, although, there are quite possibly better career choices out there. I'm just saying, maybe think about us being friends, like we were before the sex. Maybe one day I'd like there to be more, but man, I just like having you around. I like hanging out, any which way we could be good together." 

Stiles thinks there's like a fifty-fifty chance Derek is going to split right now, carry right on his path of avoidance, but instead he just nods. "I liked it when we were friends."

"Dude, me too! Like, I don't actually have many friends. I've got Scott, and I guess Isaac, but that's it."

"I don't--yeah. I missed spending time with you, too." 

Their milkshakes arrive and save Derek from painful conversation for a bit. When they're done and the bill arrives, they both reach for it.

"This isn't a date, Stiles."

Stiles shrugs. "I know, but friends can buy their friends milkshakes too, right?"

"I don't know," Derek quietly admits. "I've never really had one before."

"Well, they totally can. So, I'm getting this."

Derek nods. "Okay."

The walk back to the Jeep is quiet, but it's not awkward. Stiles is too lost in his thoughts to make conversation, because fuck, this went better than he ever could have thought it would have. When they're at the Jeep, though, he pauses. 

"Can I give you a ride somewhere? Maybe you can tell me now, so if you fall asleep I can drop you at the right place?"

Derek hesitates. 

"I give Scott and Isaac rides all the fucking time. I swear, they spend as much time in this car as I do."

The ride to Beacon Hills isn't as quiet as the walk back to the car. They argue over movies, and Derek spends ten minutes convincing Stiles that he thinks Lost Boys is worse than True Lies, only to burst into laughter at the end, unable to keep it up any longer. 

"Your face!" Derek wipes a tear from his eye. "You honestly thought I was telling the truth!"

"It has Eliza Dushku in it. How was I to know you were just fucking with me!?" 

"Yeah, but Lost Boys has a decent plot, and it's a cult classic! The frog brothers!"

"I know! That was my argument!" 

He drops Derek at the edge of the preserve, with a promise that yes, this is where he lives. Stiles tries not to think about the burned out remains of the Hale house there, and hopes it isn't really where Derek is living. 

By the time he pulls his Jeep into the drive there's a text from Derek, _bring your laptop tomorrow, and _Iron Man 3_ , it better be better than 2!_

He grins and quickly taps out, _You just wait, it's going to be epic!_

*

end

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on tumblr, [saspiesas.tumblr.com](http://saspiesas.tumblr.com)!


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